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One of the least forgettable artists to appear on an Oxford American CD of late was Karen Dalton of Enid, Oklahoma, who died in 1993, but not after etching her way into the consciousness of whoever heard her. Bob Dylan was one of the touched, and, in his 2004 autobiography, he wrote these now famous lines about his memories of Café Wha?, the Greenwich Village stomping ground for avant-garde and folkie talent: “My favorite singer in the place was Karen Dalton.... Karen had a voice like Billie Holiday and played guitar like Jimmy Reed.... I sang with her a couple of times.”

Folksinger Judy Collins’s book obviously covers a lot more than the ’60s, since her career spans fifty years and thirty-eight albums. But like so many other singer-songwriters, she’ll be largely defined by the work she did in the ’60s. She seemed perfect for the time. She had the look: long straight hair and those gorgeous eyes, a voice like crystal, and fingers that were skilled and confident on the guitar strings. She’d been trained as a classical pianist but fell in love with traditional folk songs, and reinvented herself as a folksinger akin to Joan Baez. If Baez could do it, she must have figured, why not Collins?

William Gay died on February 23, 2012. He established himself as a strong Southern voice relatively late in life with his debut novel The Long Home. Gay went on to publish two more novels as well as two collections of short stories. He was a frequent contributor and dear friend of The Oxford American and will be sorely missed. Here we share our memories of William, and reflect on his life and work. Please feel free to record your memories in the comments section.

Cool and cocksure, Bass Drum of Death listened to the old cryptic story and started connecting the dots (or wires, as it were). Just picking up that receiver made them cooler than most rock bands out there. I first saw Bass Drum of Death about three or four years ago at a dark, dank, and nasty lounge attached to what may very well have been a hooker-and-crackhead hotel in Jackson, Mississippi.

This year marked The OA crew’s second consecutive visit to the AWP Conference, and we returned full of energy and clarity. Here are some photographs from one afternoon’s stroll amidst the exhibition tables....

“It is said the siesta is one of the only gifts the Europeans brought to South America, but I imagine the Brazilians could have figured out how to sleep in the afternoon without having to endure centuries of murder and enslavement.” —Dr. Annik Swenson

You have to go to the red swimming pool, and you have to come back to the swamp. You have to dip your toes in the gator pit, and slip your arms into a polyester shirt. The book is about a plethora of worlds, all uncomfortable, and your presence, your full cooperation, your inability to refuse to enter all of them, even, like the characters themselves, against your better judgment, is a reading requirement. The book is about that uncomfortable space, the swamp in transition.

When you are with Hursley, discovery lurks around every corner or, at least, past the next stoplight. As soon as he sees something he would like to photograph, he will park the car, methodically set up his tripod, and, almost without a sound, begin shooting. He is so stealthy, he almost disappears into the scene. This contrasts to the way he shoots buildings for architects, which requires hours, perfect lighting, and loads of cumbersome equipment.

Anyone with a visceral obsession with the music, anyone who feels the tremors of youth surging through them at the strum of a power chord, or simply the fans of the songwriters themselves, can get behind the cult reputations of these three rock monuments.

Thank goodness you no longer have your virginity to protect, because Prom Date, an electro-pop, Baton Rouge –based band, would just talk you out of it anyway. Prom Date has booked the limo, bought the corsage, and made the hotel reservation (if you know what I mean). This time around, it’ll feel good; I promise....

Timothy Hursley is obsessed with a ravaged, rusty, sixty-foot-tall, abandoned grain silo. Located on the edge of a horse farm, deep down a back road in rural Hale County, Alabama, Hursley has been driving to visit the structure—seven hours from his home in Little Rock, Arkansas—for the past several years. “It sort of reminds me,” says Hursley, who speaks of his interests with understatement, “of something out of War of the Worlds.”

George Dureau often takes photographs of naked men. He also draws and paints them. Naked dwarfs, naked amputees, naked African-American men. There is no middle ground with Dureau: His subjects are either physically deformed or perfectly constructed. Because the compositions are spare—if not stark—the viewer is forced to confront raw flesh, genitals, stumps. But Dureau’s views are empathetic, not voyeuristic. 

This column covers New Orleans style with the aspirations of global readership, because my city is international: Our culture has influenced the world while simultaneously being inspired by global customs. The traditions here are as rich as our history. Where else in American do you get three days off to party? We call that Mardi Gras. I know your last two mayors don’t join a second-line with the people—your mayor probably can’t even dance. 

On a kitchen wall in Oxford, Mississippi, there is a growth chart—a skinny ladder of pencil marks and names recording the heights of dozens of random family and friends. The highest notch, off the wood molding and onto the plaster, is marked “Dave Bastard” for Dave Colvin, the giant drummer for The Heartless Bastards. The lowest notch, at 3'10", reads, “Higgins 1/7/06.” James Tolliver Higgins made that mark himself. Not even average height on his feet, this is how short he was in his wheelchair, and how darkly funny he could be. He died May 24, 2009, leaving behind piles of photographs, letters, and friends who saw him as a kind of folk hero.

Out of overwhelming curiosity, we wanted to discover the most talented and thrilling up-and-coming artists in the South. So we enlisted a range of Southern experts (gallery owners, curators, critics, artists) to help us find them. We couldn't fit all one hundred amazing artists in the issue, so here are the rest of the results, artists 41-100 (plus our amazing cover photographer coming in at 40.5).